


With Both Hands on the Heart

by delphox



Series: The Inquisitor & The Herald [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mage Rebellion, Mages and Templars, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Original Character Death(s), Ostwick Circle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delphox/pseuds/delphox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A window into every year of Sacha Trevelyan's life until the Conclave.</p>
<p>Starts 9:17 Dragon, ends 9:41 Dragon just before the Conclave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Both Hands on the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Note that this fic does involve a Templar and a Mage having feelings for each other/some manner of relationship while still living in the same Circle together, so if that is a squick for anyone I'd advise them not to read this fic, or to skip the section for year 9:36.
> 
> [Here's a drawing of Sacha and Eloise](http://40.media.tumblr.com/d319b69c19398e097e03d860870ab669/tumblr_nxnanlMpoV1taalxao1_1280.png), for anyone interested in what they look like.
> 
> Thanks to [mstigergun](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mstigergun) for coming up with this idea and convincing me to write it - and for convincing me to start writing again in general c:

9:17

His father names him Alexandre, after one of his mother’s many Orlesian relatives. His mother loves him because he is new; it’s the tenth time she’s held her child in her arms and while she’s tired of the rest, she’ll never tire of this part.

 

9:18

The eldest is already starting a family of his own, and Sacha’s mother dotes on her grandchildren, excited by their newness as she once was with his. He must have a hundred siblings, all drifting in and out of his life like ghosts, but only two of them make an impression. His sister Eloise is four, and they cannot be parted.

 

9:19

His brother, Dion, is eight, and plays at being father.

“Come along, little Sacha,” says Eloise, echoing his mother’s tone.

Sacha squeals in delight and takes her hand. He looks up to Dion, who gives him a stern scowl, a mockery of father’s expression.

“Off you go to Chantry,” he says, making his voice as low as an 8-year-old’s can. He points around the room to their imaginary siblings. “And you, and you, and you.”

 

9:20

Dion leaves, like all of his older siblings before.

“He’s going  _Val Chevin_  to be a Templar,” says Eloise, pronouncing the Orlesian words carefully. She tuts at Sacha, who has already begun to sniffle. “Don’t cry, little Sacha. He’ll still visit, just like our other brothers and sisters.”

Sacha shakes his head and cries into her stomach. He doesn’t have other brothers and sisters: only adults, and more adults.

 

9:21

Father holds his hand. He looks around at the women robed in white. Eloise calls them sisters, but Sacha doesn’t believe her.

“You are my sister, Eloise,” he whispers when father isn’t looking.

“They’re not  _sister_  sisters,” she corrects peevishly. “They’re Chantry Sisters.”

He doesn’t understand, but nods instead of questioning. He is rewarded with a smile.

 

9:22

One of their older siblings, Thomas, lounges in the nursery with them. At 16 he is already older than Sacha had thought possible.

“What’s that?” asks Eloise, pointing to the bottle of amber liquid in his hand.

“You want a sip?” he asks, and Sacha hurries over to join them.

“I want some,” he cries, reaching for the glass.

Thomas laughs and coughs into his sleeve. “It’s not for children.”

Sacha slumps down and cries into Eloise’s skirt. He’s never wanted to be an adult so badly.

 

9:23

“I have a secret to show you,” says Eloise, face serious like father’s.

Sacha follows her outside, to a secluded spot behind the gardening shed. He takes his time, reveling in the feeling - a secret, just for him and Eloise. He’s never felt this important.

Eloise pulls him down so they are both crouching, heads together. She closes her eyes.

The air shifts around them, and Sacha sees something glowing, getting brighter out of the palm of her hand.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes.

 

In what feels like no time, but what he is told is several days, he wakes up.

Only one of his eyes will open. The room is fogged, sounds dulled. Dion stands at his bedside, face serious like father’s.

“Eloise has turned from the Maker,” he says.

Sacha doesn’t know what that means. The Maker is not someone who can be turned from. He is everywhere. He tries to explain, but only tears will come out. The numbness in his face gives way to pain.

Dion leans in close, and he looks frightening.

“She won’t hurt you again, Sacha. I swear it.”

 

9:24

Not long after, he learns that Eloise is a mage. He hasn’t seen her since she shared her secret.

“She’ll be made Tranquil for it. I’m sure of it,” says Dion hotly, glaring at the wounds on Sacha’s face.

Sacha doesn’t know what that is, but he’s afraid to ask.

 

9:25

Sacha goes to Val Chevin to be a Templar. He learns that his mother’s relatives are here; a man he’s never met calls him Alexandre, proud to meet the boy who took his name. He barely gets a chance to see the city before he is ushered into the monastery.

Dion finds him at the end of the day, and Sacha finally feels at home.

 

9:26

His trainers are impressed. They praise him for his focus, his enthusiasm, his intelligence. He smiles shyly and goes back to his studies, reciting the Chant under his breath. It will be his anchor, they say, the thing that keeps the Maker in his heart.

 

9:27

“Noble families get  _permissions_ ,” says the girl his age, late at night when they are supposed to be asleep. “My cousin got to leave the Circle to visit home on holidays, and she’s a mage through and through.”

Sacha pens the letter that very evening. He would very much like to see Eloise again, it says. He wonders if they could have a reunion, it says. Noble families get  _permissions_.

The response he gets is stern, full of words like duty and discretion. We know you seek retribution, it says. We have not forgotten how she hurt you, it says. She is no longer family.

 

9:28

“I want to live in the Circle,” says Sacha firmly.

“Do you, now?” asks Dion, amused.

“I’ve found out where Eloise is living, which Circle she’s in,” he says, faltering, “I’m going to try to go there, if I can. If I’m allowed.”

Dion’s face closes up.

“Sacha, you need to let go of this obsession,” he says, as if scolding a child.

“I’m not obsessed,” insists Sacha. He falters again and puts his hands over his face.

Dion pulls him close. “There, there,” he says uncertainly, wiping away Sacha’s tears. “It will be easier when you are older.”

 

9:29

Sacha listens raptly as Dion struggles to describe it.

“It’s like… being close to the Maker, but… wanting to be closer.”

He threads his fingers together, then apart.

“The things I can do, now. The way I feel when I take it. It’s incredible.”

 

9:30

“I’ve been assigned to a Chantry in the Marches. In Markham.”

“That’s wonderful, Dion,” says Sacha, face lighting up. “You’ll be so close to home.”

Dion sighs through his nose.

Sacha tilts his good ear toward Dion, brow creasing. “You're… unhappy?”

He misses home more than anything. No, not home… he touches one of the scars that thread their way across his cheek.

Dion scowls. “Nevermind.”

 

9:31

Sacha,

Markham is flooded with Ferelden refugees. It’s been up to us to maintain order. I was looking forward to hunting apostates and slaying darkspawn, but so far it’s just been more Chantry business. There was a scuffle earlier this week, between a family of refugees and some drunken bandit out of Kirkwall. All I had to do was angle myself so the sun glinted off of my armor and he was gone. I admit, it did feel nice to hear their gratitude. It’s not what I imagined I’d be doing as a Templar, but if this is the Maker’s will, then who am I to question?

Don’t worry over me too much, Sacha - if I die it will likely be of boredom. There are blankets and food to distribute, and every day I have to stand guard as the Sisters ask angry Marchers for  _petit alms_. Almost makes me homesick.

As always, I love you, little brother, and I miss you. Keep to your studies, and your training. I’ll try to be by to visit when things calm down.

\- Love, Dion

 

9:32

The homesickness he remembers only gets worse when he finds himself back in Ostwick.

His gaze wanders across the gathering and settles on Dion. Two years have been enough to make him different, tired and serious, or perhaps it is that he was closer to the man on the funeral pyre than Sacha.

He looks again at the burning remains and all he can think of is how there are eight of them there; eight siblings and one body, when there should be ten.

Eloise won’t have received the news.

He covers his face quickly as the tears come. Mother pulls him into an embrace.

“Don’t cry, little Sacha,” she whispers, “Thomas has gone to be with the Maker.”

When she speaks she sounds like a stranger.

 

9:33

“Fraternization is against the rules,” recites Sacha, breathless against the cold stone of the Chantry wall.

“No one has to know,” insists the other boy, “It’ll be our secret.”

Sacha leans forward to kiss him again. He’s always liked keeping secrets.

 

9:34

Vigil complete, he steels himself for his first draught. The others, already initiated, hold his arms tight at his sides, encouraging and entrapping. He wonders briefly if it was like this for Dion. Obligation overhead and camaraderie underneath and Sacha is crushed somewhere in the center.

It is the worst pain he has ever felt.

When it is over, he feels new, and full, and empty at the same time. It’s the beginning of an aching hunger that will never be sated.

Sacha cries tears of relief when he is assigned to Eloise’s circle.

 

9:35

Eloise is different than he remembers. At first she can barely look at him, glancing over his scars and then down.

When they can finally meet in private she traces them with her fingers.

Sacha catches her hand.

“I barely remember getting them,” he confesses, smile fading when she looks away. “I heard about what Mother and Father did. That they disowned you.”

“There hasn’t been a mage in the family for generations,” says Eloise. She still can’t look at him, but she does not withdraw her hand. “There are no mages in your family.”

Sacha leans down to meet her eye. “You are still my family.”

 

9:36

She’s like a whirlwind, or a thunderstorm, or something beautiful and awe-inspiring and all-encompassing that Sacha’s only read about in books.

"Nadine,” he whispers to himself, quietly so that her name will not conjure up her image. “Nadine, I cannot love you,” he rehearses, “No - it cannot be. It’s not allowed. I am here to protect you, or, or, protect others from you - no, I can’t tell her that. I have to protect you from me.”

The realization hits him in the chest, burns white-hot like lyrium.

 

She had complained the last time, about the Templars circling her, watching her for more than magic. “You’re not like the others,” she had said, “You’re kinder, gentler. They see a mage, a  _tool_ , but you see a person.”

Sacha is terrified that he doesn’t believe her.

 

9:37

The Circle falls apart.

Sacha is frozen, hidden away from the fighting. He is sworn to protect mages, or he is sworn to protect others from them. It’s impossible now to do both, and impossible to do one and not the other, so he does nothing.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, someone speaking into the wrong ear. Sacha turns to hear better and sees that it is another Templar. His armor is streaked with blood.

“Sacha,” he says, voice calm, “Sacha, it’s just me. It’s Wes. You’re still with us, right?”

Sacha shakes his head, slowly.

“I- I can’t,” he mumbles, “I can’t kill them. I’ve never had to and I don’t want to, I won’t do it. I don’t care about my oath anymore.”

Sacha covers his face as the tears come, but Wes crouches down beside him and pulls his hands away.

“That’s alright, it’s alright,” he says, almost too quietly to hear, “Let’s find your sister. There are other loyal mages, too. And the Tranquil. We need to get them out of here.”

“I don’t think I can fight - Maker, they’re all our friends, Wes,” Sacha chokes, “I was prepared for - for abominations, for apostates - not this.”

Wes squeezes his hands, leaning forward so their foreheads are touching.

“That’s alright, Sacha. I’ll protect you.”

 

9:38

“Are you alright?” asks Eloise, when it is just her and Sacha left.

Sacha searches through his things, hands shaking. He doesn’t know how Wes had so much when they left, but now it’s all gone.

“I’m going to quit lyrium,” he says, closing his pack.

“Won’t that be dangerous?” asks Eloise, surprised, “What if you need to fight?”

Sacha shakes his head. Eloise doesn’t know that it’s useless to be able to rob a mage of their magic, not when it comes a second too late.

 

9:39

They’ve been caught up in some Fereldan town for far too long but it’s impossible to leave. The man Eloise found to give Sacha lyrium wants him to stay to pay his debt.

Sacha wants to stop forgetting, to feel like he belongs in his body again. He can’t remember when they got to Ferelden, what happened before, the feel of Wes’s lips on his own, his voice, his face, the things he said that made Sacha feel safe.

He’s given another draught, just enough to remind him why he hasn’t left.

He can’t remember why he had wanted to quit.

 

9:40

It’s like waking up from a dream, or a nightmare. Sacha finally has enough, stolen from the man who had only let it go in the smallest, controlled amounts.

He can’t tell Eloise what he did to get it. He can’t tell Eloise what he was asked to do. She doesn’t ask.

For the first time, he is glad Wes is dead.

 

9:41

Sacha holds Dion’s letter to his chest, hiding it from Eloise. It is an invitation; his brother is attending a meeting, one that will end the war. He is there with the other Templars, the ones who didn’t turn away from their duty.

“He will forgive you,” says Sacha when Eloise finds out where they are going. “I am sure of it. I will explain it to him, and you will be there to show him that you aren’t a danger.”

“How many mages has he killed,” she asks, “How many did he kill after we rebelled?”

“Apostates,” corrects Sacha.

He doesn’t bring it up again.


End file.
